Held Captive (Held Free)
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Soulmate!AU, VoldemortWins!AU. When Harry wakes up in a cell, he cannot help but wish he'd made a different choice when he was at the foggy King's Cross with Dumbledore.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 3818

* * *

**Held Captive (Held Free) **

* * *

Harry woke up to stone walls and rusted bars.

There was an ache in his head, and his limbs felt heavy, almost impossible to move. Forcing himself to push past the pain, he sat up. He wasn't chained up, but given the heavy lock on the cell door, and his lack of wand, he may as well have been.

He tried to remember what had happened to land him there, but he couldn't. He remembered being in the forest, and speaking to Dumbledore in his mind, and he remembered the smell of the forest floor beneath him when he woke, but that was the last he remembered.

Did anyone even know he was alive?

Did Ron and Hermione? Were they safe?

He forced himself up onto shaking legs and stepped over to the bars that formed the door, trying to peer out into the corridor for any clue on where he was, but the darkness was too thick to see.

Only the luminous moon through the high window provided light, and it didn't stretch beyond the cell.

Wondering if he should call out, Harry decided to just wait a while. He returned to the corner he'd woken up in and lowered himself carefully to the floor, leaning back into the corner of the wall with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them.

It was cold, and he'd been left in just his t-shirt and jeans with not even the most threadbare of blankets.

Harry let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. He wondered, if he tried hard enough, if he'd be able to get back to that foggy Kings Cross and make a different choice.

He should have gone _on_.

He should never have come back.

…

A clatter on the cell doors made Harry open his eyes. Lucius Malfoy stood in front of his cell, a tray in his hands.

He looked _shocking. _His usually lustrous blond hair was limp and thin, his facial features sunken and waxy, and the tray was rattling slightly from the way his hands shook.

He couldn't seem to bring himself to meet Harry's eyes as he slid the tray through the small space at the bottom of the door.

Harry watched him leave, frowning to himself. He couldn't eat or drink anything on the tray—he wasn't entirely stupid—but having it there was the worst kind of torture. The tall glass of water in particular tempted him, and he had to wrap himself tighter into a ball, his eyes closed once more, to avoid looking at it.

He was _so _thirsty. He didn't know how long it had been since he was in the Hogs Head, but it had certainly been a while and he was feeling the lack of hydration.

Still, he knew he couldn't touch the offerings left for him, and for now at least, he managed to stand strong against it.

…

Blood red eyes were boring into his own when he opened his eyes again.

Harry stared back at Voldemort, refusing to show him fear. The worst Voldemort could do was kill him, and Harry wasn't afraid of death. He'd been there, and he knew he had nothing to fear by returning.

He wondered if perhaps he'd at least be told the motive for holding him captive instead of just ending him.

"Harry Potter."

"Voldemort," Harry returned, refusing to flinch as the thin lips stretched into an eerie smile.

"I'm told that you've been leaving the trays brought to you untouched. That simply won't do. I will not have you killing yourself until I wish you dead."

"You've wished me dead for years," Harry replied flatly. "I thought I'd be doing you a favour."

"Had I wanted you dead, you would have never woken up," Voldemort replied. "You will eat, or you will be forced too."

Harry shrugged. "Then force me."

…

Voldemort was true to his word. He had Lucius force feed him the next tray that was delivered. Harry did take great pleasure in biting his finger, but ultimately, he couldn't stop the blond man from forcing the food down his throat.

Nothing happened.

He wasn't forced to tell the truth, or fall in love, and he wasn't in any pain from an undoubtedly imaginative poison.

Unless it was an extremely slow acting potion, his food and water were clear.

Harry fed himself after the first day.

It was boring in the cell. Time passed at a glacial pace, and with nothing to do, Harry was slowly going mad.

He had occasional company in Lucius, who still refused to meet his eyes, and on occasion another Death Eater that he didn't know, but neither of them were much for conversation.

They tended to sit silently while he ate, to ensure he did, Harry supposed.

With each day that slipped past, he wished more and more that he hadn't been so _moral _at that train station.

…

High pitched screaming woke him from an already restless sleep, and Harry sat up in his cell, frowning.

Whoever it was that was making such an inhuman sound was clearly in pain. He wondered what was happening, and if Voldemort was torturing someone.

It certainly sounded like torture, whatever it was.

The screaming lasted for hours, and for the first time since he'd woken up in the cell, Harry wished for silence.

Anything would be better than listening to _that. _

…

A finger stroked his cheek. Harry blinked his eyes open, confused when he saw a handsome man standing over him, dark brown eyes peering down at him.

His skin sizzled along the trail the man's finger left on his cheek, and Harry's eyes widened when he felt an instant connection to the man.

Soulmate.

Hermione had read about it once, Harry remembered. She'd been excited at the prospect of soulmates until she'd realised how very rare it was to ever find that one person that was perfectly meant for you.

Ron and Harry had laughed off the idea. They'd been so young.

But Harry remembered the way Hermione had explained the feeling and this… it was the only explanation.

Harry scrambled away from him, pressing himself into the corner of the cell. "Who are you?"

"You know who I am. You felt it."

Harry looked at him closer. There was something oddly familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. As the man stepped away, Harry felt a tug in his chest, as though his heart was reaching out to the man.

Footsteps in the corridor outside of the cell drew Harry's attention and he looked over to see Lucius stopping in the open doorway. Harry hadn't even realised the door was _open. _

"My Lord," Lucius said, bowing deeply to the man, and it clicked in Harry's mind.

Deep brown eyes sparkled and Harry realised that the last time he'd seen them, they'd been scarlet. This was…

"Voldemort," he muttered, aghast.

Lord Voldemort was his soulmate.

"Tom Riddle," the man corrected with a charming smile. "Whole once more."

"The screaming," Harry whispered, his brow furrowing. "It was… you. You were the one I heard screaming."

"It was an arduous ritual," Tom allowed. "But worth it, I think."

Tom turned to look at Lucius. "Have the room beside mine prepared for Harry. I want him to have the best of everything, and I _will _be checking."

"My Lord," Lucius repeated, once more bowing low before he scurried off.

Tom looked back at Harry and held his hand out. "I wish for you to dine with me, this eve. You won't be staying in this cell any longer."

"Why?"

"You are my soulmate," Tom replied quietly. "Mine to keep, mine to protect, mine to cherish. That is how the stories go, is it not?"

Harry wanted to argue, he really did, but when Tom took his hand, he felt that spark once more and he found that he couldn't bring himself to disagree.

He let Tom help him to his feet, and he let him guide him through the maze of corridors until they reached a set of stairs. He was getting out.

He would have a chance to escape.

…

There was a kitten was sitting on the purple sheeted bed when they reached the bedroom Tom said was to be Harry's. As Tom inspected Lucius' work, Harry walked over and sat down beside the kitten, stroking her head gently.

She was beautiful, a darker brown speckled with lighter spots and tiny white paws. She headbutted his hand and he smiled.

"Are you pleased with your room?" Tom asked. Harry looked up at him and then around them, nodding half heartedly. Honestly, anything was better than the cell he'd been in before.

Tom nodded and shifted slightly. Harry got the strange idea that he was actually nervous.

"What is her name?" he asked, gesturing down to the kitten, who'd rolled onto her back and was purring as Harry stroked her belly.

"She is yours to name, if you have a wish to keep her."

Harry blinked. "Mine?"

"Of course. You should have all you desire, Harry."

Except for his freedom, Harry thought, but didn't say.

Their dinner had been weird and awkward and their conversation stilted, but it hadn't been… awful. Harry didn't want to ruin it now, not before he'd even had the chance to lie down on the criminally comfortable bed he was sitting on.

"I think I'll call her Ophelia," Harry said after a moment. "It suits her."

…

Harry was given free range of the Manor.

He thought it was somewhat weird, until he tried to walk around the grounds and found Tom by his side in seconds.

"Were you trying to go somewhere?" Tom asked, striding down the corridor towards him.

"Just wanted to look around the gardens," Harry replied. "It's been a long time since I've been outside."

Something in Tom's eyes seemed to soften, and he offered Harry his arm. "Then allow me to escort you for a walk around the grounds. You only had to ask, Harry. Please do remember that."

"It's hard," Harry said, after a moment. "To connect you with the man were. To know what I can and can't ask for."

"I will provide you with whatever you desire, if I can."

"I want to know what happened," Harry said, looking up at him. "I want to know what happened at Hogwarts while I was unconscious. I want to know if my friends are alive and safe."

Tom sighed. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"_Yes_."

"The… resistance is still ongoing, but many of those that stood against me have either been killed in battle, or have run abroad. I'm afraid that I cannot tell you who or when, simply because I do not know the answers, Harry. It… saddens me that I cannot give you closure or the good news that you desire."

"And Hogwarts?"

"What about Hogwarts?"

"Is it still standing? Is it still a school? Is Professor McGonagall—"

"It is still standing and will be opening for the new term in September, yes," Tom replied. "Minerva McGonagall was amongst those that perished in battle. She was a formidable opponent, and I'm afraid I could not allow her to live."

Harry bit his lip hard. How could he be walking arm in arm with a man that could say such callous things, and still want him beside him?

Soulmate or no, Harry should have a choice, right?

Except he didn't, because just the thought of running, hiding, of never seeing Tom again, was painful. He had no doubt that if he tried it, it would only hurt more.

"The resistance… I want you to promise me that you won't kill them unless you're given absolutely no other choice. I… I don't want any more deaths."

Tom looked down at him. "For you," he agreed after a long pause. "For you I will be merciful."

…

Harry settled into his new life with Ophelia by his side. It was better, getting better all the time, and he found himself… content.

Never would he have believed it possible for him to be happy in the presence of Voldemort, but he couldn't bring himself to hate him.

He so clearly tried to make Harry happy, and though Harry knew he was manipulating the bond between them, he couldn't bring himself to care all that much.

Part of him thought that it was nice, to have other people worry about the important things.

Here, in the manor, with Tom and Ophelia, Harry didn't have to worry about… well, anything really.

He missed his friends dearly every day, but he hoped that they were okay, wherever they were, and that they were together. He tried not to think about them being amongst the dead, because it hurt less to think about them building a new life somewhere hot and sunny, away from all the fighting.

He missed magic too. He'd asked Tom if he would ever be allowed his wand back, and Tom had only smiled and replied with, "perhaps."

Occasionally, Harry would come across a Death Eater in the hallways, and they'd _bow _to him as they passed. Tom thought it was hilarious when Harry had asked him about that, confused and horrified.

"It is because you are my soulmate, Harry. My other half. Should one of them ever hurt you or cause you pain, they would know torment like they've never known before. They are all very aware of that and act accordingly."

Harry didn't know what to make of any of it.

But… he wasn't unhappy.

And that was a step up.

…

"Harry? Are you quite alright? Lucius informs me you've been sitting her for almost an hour."

Harry glanced away from the window and sighed. "It's a beautiful day. I miss flying."

Tom cupped his cheek. "What have I told you about asking me for the things you would like. Come with me."

Harry took Tom's hand and followed along behind him, wondering what was going on. Surely Tom wasn't going to let Harry—

But apparently Harry was wrong, because Tom led Harry straight outside to a shed, which, when opened, was clearly a broom shed.

"You… You'll let me fly?"

Tom smiled. "Whatever you desire is yours for the asking if it is within my power to give you. I believe I've told you this numerous times, Harry."

It was only later, when Harry was curled up in bed with Ophelia on his chest and a book open beside him, that Harry realised that not once while he was in the air had he thought about trying to escape.

…

He was reading in the library when the door burst open with a bang.

"Harry, we have to go! We're running out of time!"

Harry stared at Neville Longbottom, amazed that he was there at all. He'd thought all of his schoolmates either dead or escaped, beginning new lives in other countries.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, head tilting to the side.

Neville blinked at him. "We're here to rescue you, of course! Whatever he's done to make you comply, we can fix it, Harry, but we have to get you out of here!"

"I…" Harry paused. Was Tom doing anything to keep him there? He didn't think so. They were soulmates, and… Tom was different, with him. He was affectionate and kind and loving. Everything Harry had always wanted to feel. "I don't want to leave."

"I know he's—"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't… I'm not leaving, Neville. You need to go and find whoever is with you and leave. Go to Europe, or Australia or America or _anywhere _that isn't Britain. Just… go. Please."

"Harry, I don't—"

"He'll know you're here," Harry said quietly. "Nothing happens here without Tom knowing. He's giving you the chance to escape for me. If you take too long… he's not the most patient."

Neville was staring at him, horrified. "What has he done to you?"

"Tom hasn't done anything to me," Harry replied softly, looking down at the cover of his book. "I had to adjust to the new world, the same as everyone else. He looks after me, Neville. He… he makes the pain go away. He's my soulmate, Neville."

"How can he be your soulmate when he doesn't have a soul? He's a monster! He killed your best friends!"

Harry flinched and looked away, the confirmation of Ron and Hermione's death unwanted and harsh. "You need to leave, Neville. If he finds you here, he _will _kill you. There's been enough death."

Another bang, and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the doorway. "What's taking so long?"

"He… He won't come with me," Neville said, his disbelief evident.

Kingsley sighed sadly. "We knew he could be enchanted, Neville." He stepped forwards towards Harry. "I am sorry about this, Harry. You… you'll thank me later."

Harry tried to dodge the spell, but he wasn't fast enough.

Darkness beckoned, and he didn't have the strength to fight it.

…

When Harry woke, he knew immediately that he wasn't in the Manor. The blankets were soft, but not satin, and it was brighter in the room. He opened his eyes to find himself in a small bedroom.

He frowned as vague memories of Neville and Kingsley assaulted his mind, and he wondered where they'd taken him.

It was unexpected that Tom had _let _them take him, unless he was planning to ambush whatever safe house they were currently in. It did seem like the kind of thing he'd do.

"Harry?"

Harry turned his head to look at the door, eyes widening slightly when he saw Molly Weasley standing in the doorway, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, Harry dear, thank Merlin we got you out of there!"

Harry didn't reply, not really sure what to say. It didn't matter that he didn't want to be there; Kingsley and Neville were evidence that they'd only believe he was being held under an enchantment.

None of them understood.

How could they?

Few of them had found their soulmates, and those that had hadn't done so in the middle of a war. Even more than that, none of them could possibly understand the connection between him and Tom.

He sat up slowly, rubbing at his head. "Where am I?"

"You're safe sweetheart," she said, finally moving forwards to deposit a tray on the bed. "I brought you some food and some tea, you should eat. It'll make you feel better."

"I'm not hungry," Harry muttered, looking away from the tray.

He had no doubt at all that there was something in either the food or the tea. If they thought he was being enchanted, they were undoubtedly going to try and 'cure' him. Merlin only knew what they were trying to feed him.

"Harry Dear, you should at least drink the tea."

"I'm not—"

He was interrupted by an almighty bang from what he assumed was downstairs, and he glanced at Molly.

She'd gone pale, and she slipped her wand from her apron pouch.

"You just stay up here, Harry," she said firmly. "Someone will be up when it's safe."

Harry wanted to scoff at her, but he didn't. He sat silently as she slipped from the room. Really, he was the only one that was actually safe. Tom would flay all of them if it meant getting Harry back.

There were bangs and shouts below, and Harry slipped out of bed, cursing his lack of wand. None of this would have happened if he'd had his wand on him when Neville showed up.

He stepped cautiously into the corridor and looked over the bannister. Unable to see anything, Harry slowly walked down the stairs, only to find himself looking at carnage through the window.

The Order—or what was left of them at least—were trying to hold Tom outside, but the Death Eaters were pushing them back like it was child's play. Tom stood in the middle, his wand twirling and spinning elegantly in his hand.

He was fighting with a ferocity Harry had never seen. The Order members were dropping like flies.

Harry made his way to the door and pushed it open, taking in the scene more fully. He didn't want this. He'd never wanted this.

He'd thought, with the end of the war, there would be an end to the fighting. Everyone who had openly opposed Tom was supposed to have _left. _

"Enough!" he shouted, loud enough for all of them to hear him.

Tom turned to him, his eyes flashing as he took him in, clearly checking him for injury. All around them, the others froze, watching, waiting. Tom raised his free hand, palm up, to Harry and waited patiently for him to take it.

Harry glanced around at the others before he moved forwards with purpose, placing his hand in Tom's waiting one.

"Enough, Tom," he repeated quietly. "I don't want anymore fighting. Let them be."

"They kidnapped you," Tom snapped angrily. "And you want me to allow them their lives?"

"Yes. There's been enough—too much—death."

Tom stared at him for a long moment and then nodded once. He looked around at those surrounding them, and gestured for the Death Eaters to retreat.

"You live this day at the grace of my soulmate. I allow you to live because to kill you would hurt him. Do not mistake the kindness for something that will be repeated."

Harry looked first at Molly, and then Neville. "Don't come after me again. I am where I'm supposed to be."

He nodded at Tom and felt the familiar feeling of side-along Apparition pull him away.

…

"Did they hurt you?"

They'd barely landed when Tom spoke the words, his hands running over Harry's body, searching for any indication of him being in anything but perfect condition.

Harry laid his hands over Tom's, stilling them.

"I'm fine, I promise."

"I wasn't here," Tom told him, shifting his hand from beneath Harry's to cup his cheek. "They never would have gotten near you had I been here."

"Don't worry about it," Harry whispered, nuzzling the hand slightly. "I… I want my wand though. In case anything like this happens in the future."

Tom stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. "You're right. You should have your wand. I… I am sorry that I kept it from you for so long. I though, given the means to leave, that you would take the first opportunity."

Harry wasn't an idiot; he'd known perfectly well the reason Tom hadn't given him his wand.

"I love you," he whispered. "I won't leave you. Not now, not ever."

Tom blinked and then softened, gathering Harry in a tight hug. "I adore you, My Harry."

* * *

**Written for: **

Assorted Appreciation - 4. "You know who I am. You felt it."

Trope - 10. "We're running out of time!"

Showtime - 14. Bowing

Attic - 5. Maze

Press Play - 8. Moral

Liza Loves - 21. Ferocity

Scamander - 10. Spotted or speckled

Film Festival - 12. Motive

Funfair - Decorations - Hanging Pirate - Purple

Horror Movie - Title - 10. Tom Riddle

Monster Mash - Torso - 3. Freddy's jumper - Tom Riddle

Galleon - Wand

Zodiac - Scorpio - Scarlet

Trick or Treat - Trick - Devil - Blood Red

Masque - Embellishment - Pearl - Voldemort Wins!AU

Pumpkin Toss - Medium - 10. Tom Riddle

Stickers - Newt's Case - 5. Basilisk - Not being able to make eye contact with someone.

365\. Luminous


End file.
